


it's nice to have a friend.

by hidlaw



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: HQSwiftWeek2020, M/M, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26524576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidlaw/pseuds/hidlaw
Summary: One day, he swears, he'll be brave enough to slip his hand into Kita's own.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	it's nice to have a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of #HQSwiftWeek2020: Lover.

_School bell rings, walk me home_

_Sidewalk chalk covered in snow_

_Lost my gloves, you give me one_

_"Wanna hang out?"_

_Yeah, sounds like fun_

_Video games, you pass me a note_

_Sleeping in tents_

_**It's nice to have a friend** _

  
  


Atsumu sniffs and forces air through his clogged nose as if he’s trying to inhale all the oxygen in the gym. His nose itches in retaliation and he rubs at it once more, making it redder and tearing a frustrated groan out of him.

Ginjima blinks. “You sure you shouldn't go home and rest?”

Being stuck at home doesn't appeal to him. For sure, all he’s gonna do there is sulk for missing practice. What he needs is a distraction, something that can get his adrenaline going and make him forget about his wretched runny nose. “It’s nothin’! It’ll only get worse if I don’t play volleyball.”

“I get it, man! You really love volleyball, huh?” With his teammate’s approval encouraging his stubborn self, Atsumu is convinced to stay. 

“Go home.”

The words have no room for argument and it makes Atsumu turn around. Kita pins him down with that unnerving stare of his and Atsumu’s tongue seems to curl back in his mouth, dragging along any protests that Atsumu has in store.

When he’s done with him, Kita turns, not sparing Ginjima. “Don’t praise someone for failing to take proper care of their health.”

The reprimanding words carry themselves throughout the gym and the bastards (read: Suna and Samu) hold back their smug grins.

Even though the words are for Ginjima, they still shoot through Atsumu’s paper-thin pride. There is absolutely something brash at the tip of his tongue but Kita’s stare shuts him up. It's a look that's simultaneously _Go home_ and _I'm not going to repeat myself._

No one is going to back him up this time, especially not Samu, so Atsumu shoves his hands deep in his jacket pockets, keeps the indignant look to himself, and trudges off to the clubroom.

_Stupid cold. Stupid Ginjima. Stupid_ —

Fox-like eyes flash before him, quiet and sharp. The frustration sitting on his chest rises and he barges in the clubroom with a growl. “What the hell! Can’t he just phrase things a little better?!”

It's fairly neat and empty inside and during his much deserved tantrum, Atsumu almost misses the plastic bag waiting for him.

Inside, he's greeted by minty lozenges, lemon water, umeboshi, and a note.

_Dear Atsumu,_

_Eat a proper dinner and get a good night’s sleep._

_Sincerely,_

_Kita_

His heart leaps to this throat.

Atsumu cards a rough hand through his hair and tugs hard, blinking back the wetness in his eyes. “Fuck.”

He glares at the little package of care before him, carefully picked out and put together. Someone took time out of their day just to do so. _All for him._

Atsumu does his best to ignore his thudding heart but it's all he hears.

Later, he tells Osamu about the package and how Kita-san _really_ cares about him. It earns him Samu's new cookbook to the head.

He doesn't tell Samu how his heart skipped a beat when he read the note or how Kita's blunt _‘Go home’_ has played itself over and over in his head and warped into something warm.

That night, swaddled in warm blankets and having the faint taste of umeboshi on his lips, Atsumu dreams of Kita.

_Light pink sky up on the roof_

_Sun sinks down, no curfew_

_Twenty questions, we tell the truth_

_You've been stressed out lately?_ _Y_ _eah, me too_

_Something gave you the nerve_

_To touch my hand_

_**It's nice to have a friend** _

It’s the day before Kita’s graduation and Atsumu somehow managed to drag his soon-to-be ex captain to the school’s rooftop. Technically, Kita has stepped down from his captaincy sometime ago, even did a little speech along with the other third years that had the team in near tears, but Atsumu is stubborn and he wants to drag it out to the last day. _Today._

Without the others’ chattering and squabbles, the rooftop is quiet. It’s the perfect spot to wind down, watch the sky bleed into pinks and oranges, and to just be selfish and have some more time with the one person you're gonna miss seeing around.

The quiet between them is comfortable and Atsumu watches how the setting sun is bathing Kita in a soft orange glow. Kita's gaze is fixed on the city spilling before them but soon, it shifts from the sunset view over to him.

Atsumu doesn't look away this time. “Are ya scared?” His voice is soft, quiet, that Atsumu’s not sure if it’s even his own. Kita contemplates but his calm expression doesn’t waver. 

He is mostly sure of the answer. Despite Kita being _Kita_ — reliable, unwavering, Kita— he's still pretty much an 18 year old boy stepping out of highschool and having all the unknown in front of him.

“I am.”

Atsumu nods, solemn. Being scared is fine, it’s normal. Even Atsumu is scared. In a year’s time, he’s going to have his last official match with Samu. It's going to be on the national stage and it'll be glorious.

But after that, who knows what will happen. Sure, they have plans and they have their bet going on and if anyone's determined to stand on top of the world, it would be the two of them. 

But still.

Atsumu blinks, tears himself away from his thoughts, then adds: “I think you're going to be fine.”

A faint smile tugs up at the corner of Kita’s lips and Atsumu sighs to himself, thinking just how unfair it is for someone to look that beautiful and how his already-slim chances of seeing that smile is dwindling even more.

“I know.”

Atsumu nods. If anyone has a good chance at adulthood, it would be Kita. He doesn't slack, and he's incredibly diligent. The patience and dedication he has for anything will always lead to growth and one way or another, he'll get the results that he wants because there's no reason for him not to.

He's practically built for adulthood. Probably even more adept than most adults.

It takes a beat or two before he realizes that he's said all of that out loud. Atsumu turns to Kita and swallows.

Well, that’s as eloquent as he can get.

Kita watches him with a fond expression, probably taking in the color of Atsumu's cheeks. Polite as ever, he doesn't point it out. Instead, he brings his backpack to his front. “I have something for you.” 

He unzips the bag and pulls out something neatly folded.

It takes a single breath for Atsumu’s throat to close up, the dull ache in his chest all day suddenly sharp. He knows the black and white of their jersey, stares dumbfounded at the large number 1 that's staring back at him. This is nothing like the note and carefully picked out package that he found in the clubroom.

He grits his teeth and seethes quietly, heart full and suddenly too large. Like hell he’s going to let a single tear fall. His rough hands clutch the jersey.

Atsumu suddenly finds it hard to meet Kita's eyes. A miserable groan escapes, voice cracking. “Kita-san, why’re ya _doin’_ this to me?”

“I think you’re going to be fine as well.”

That does it. Easily.

A choked sob escapes as he loses the fight against his tears, bowing his head to hide any that slide down his face. Atsumu manages to watch a few drops fall on the fabric before everything becomes a blurry mess. His ugly crying noises reach his ears and the faint voice at the back of his head says _stop, stop, stop_. The moment Atsumu tries, his lip wobbles and another sob pours out.

A hand, callused as his own but far kinder, grips at his arm and tugs him close. Atsumu finds a shoulder and buries himself there, staining Kita's shirt with hot tears and knuckles white around the jersey.

* * *

They spend another hour up there, this time sitting on the ground and sharing snacks that Atsumu brought with him. Kita contributes with some leftover dorayaki he had earlier.

A bite or three later, Atsumu's smile returns and from then on, he tries his best to paint the same thing on Kita's lips. It works. He even gets a few laughs.

The sunset is kind to them and they find it easy to drown in each other's company, their smiles and laughter keeping them warm and the rest of the world falling away.

At some point, the distance between them is gone and no one says anything about it. Atsumu wishes for the oranges and pinks in the sky to bleed a little bit more, to stretch their sunset just a little bit longer. Their pinkies bump into each other before Atsumu feels Kita's fingers lying on top of his.

One day, he swears, he'll be brave enough to slip his hand into Kita's own.

_Church bells ring, carry me home_

_Rice on the ground looks like snow_

_Call my bluff, call you "babe"_

_Have my back, yeah, everyday_

_Feels like home, stay in bed_

_The whole weekend_

_**It's nice to have a friend**_

It finally happens. A miracle. Also known as their days off syncing.

Atsumu curls his arm around him, enjoying the cool, country air and countering it with the warmth of their bodies. He buries his face into silver locks, breathing him in. He smells soft with sleep and home.

“Atsumu, I have to prepare breakfast.”

“I thought it’s my turn to make breakfast.”

“Then you have to prepare breakfast.”

A quiet whine of retaliation, tightening his hold on the man to keep him from escaping. “It’s our day off, sshh. We’re allowed to sleep in.” Atsumu kisses at his shoulder, trailing his lips towards his neck until he finds a spot not covered by his pajamas. He kisses and kisses and he hears him sigh in surrender, melting back into Atsumu’s arms. 

“Atsumu.”

_“Shinsuke.”_

He smiles around his skin when he feels Shinsuke sink into him a little more. Atsumu feels hands around his own and a faint blush dusts his cheeks when lips start to pepper kisses all over his calloused knuckles. 

He presses his forehead on Shinsuke’s back, bites back the urge to sink his teeth into a muscle that he knows will make Shinsuke arch, and sighs. Plenty of time for that later.

For now, the morning light seeps in and everything is golden. Atsumu slips his hand into Shinsuke's with ease, knowing every dip and every callus there. Shinsuke squeezes back and his heart floods with warmth. It’s all he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> for your majesty: a love letter from me to you.


End file.
